A Natural Cougher
by sartietingles
Summary: Artie couldn't get the image of Kurt swinging around that scaffolding out of his head – and when Kurt caught a cold it really didn't help.


_**Title**: A Natural Cougher  
><strong>Genre<strong>: Humour/Romance/Artie is horny and word vomits  
><strong>Word Count<strong>: ~2300  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Kurt/Artie  
><strong>Summary<strong>: __Artie couldn't get the image of Kurt swinging around that scaffolding out of his head – and when Kurt caught a cold it really didn't help.  
><em>_**  
><strong>_

* * *

><p><em>I could hardly keep the stupid grin off my face as Kurt climbed all over that damned scaffolding. This has got to be the most jealous I've ever been of an inanimate object. I wonder what I could offer the scaffolding to change places with me? No – stop. Get that stupid look off your face too, the Beiste is already suspicious of you after she saw Kurt's audition date highlighted a million times in your planner when she got it back for you off the hockey team… I mean if I had known the hockey team were going to steal my stuff I wouldn't have drawn all those love hearts around our names… but that can't be helped and – oh for the love of all that is holy that boy is flexible.<em>

"Mr. Abrams, what is the answer to question 4?" The voice of my stern geometry teacher snapped me out of my thoughts and brought me back to the present.

Still, all I could see were those arms and those legs swinging around that stage and - "Are you still with us, Mr. Abrams?"

"Uhhh," I stared at him – trying to fight down the grin on my face. Kurt was staring at me from the desk in front with that half amused smirk he wore that was so adorable yet so sexy that I just wanted to grab him and throw him against a wall and –

I continued to stare blankly.

"Or are you trying to answer me via telekinesis again?" Mr. Welkin tried.

Oh come on, that was _one time._

I tried to turn my grin from 'spaced out and turned on' to 'cheeky' and answered. "Yup. Is it working?" I rubbed my temples and squinched my eyes for emphasis.

Kurt giggled. My heart soared at the sound.

"Ok, let's ask someone who _isn't_ a raging buffoon," Mr. Welkin deadpanned. His gaze landed on Finn, then Puck, then Brittany. He crumped slightly, giving up, and stalked back to his desk mumbling about his need for a holiday.

And then came the sexiest sound in the world.

Kurt coughed.

And I was transported back to that glorious free period last week in which I got to stare at Kurt shake dat ass for whole five minutes without it being weird.

_I'm a natural Camille_

_As Camille I just feel_

_I have so much to offer_

_Damn boy! This is fast becoming my favourite song ever. It should win an award. All the awards, in fact. And – oh sweet Jesus he's climbing the thing again. Keep the boner down, Artie, this is not the time._

_I'm a natural cougher_

_Oh. That's cool. He just climbed up a thing and lay there and now he's convulsing while he coughs. I didn't know that coughing this was sexy. Why did no one tell me this? I think I'm gonna die. Although Kurt could read fucking nursery rhymes and I'd be turned on so maybe it's not the coughing – it's Kurt. Well, it's Kurt coughing. Regardless - I swear if I ever hear this again my pants are just gonna run away and I'm gonna pounce that boy._

I held on to my pants, swearing that if they tried to run away I would murder them in their sleep.

Kurt became of the fact that I was gawking at him. "It's ok," he smiled charmingly. "I don't think it's contagious."

"Oh, OK," I said, going to lean my head on my hand in feigned casualness, but my head missed my hand and I ended up face-desking. Kurt chortled at me. Though I'd decided many a time that Kurt's laugh was my favourite sound and that I wanted to hear it as often as possible, this wasn't entirely my favourite way of doing it.

And then Kurt started coughing again and all I could see was that fucking scaffolding and him all over it.

An audible sigh of exasperation from Mr. Welkins once again pulled me out of my thoughts. "Mr. Abrams, could you take Mr. Hummel to the nurse's office?"

"I'm fine, really," Kurt insisted, coughing violently again. It wasn't so attractive anymore – I was actually getting a little worried.

"Come on, Kurt, you're sick," I rolled past him and put a hand on his arm. He was hot. No – not in that way. Well, yes – in that way, but also in the other way. Poor guy was really sick.

"Thanks, Artie," Kurt hummed. My heart jumped as he said my name, then fell about as he took my hand and let me lead him down the halls.

It became apparent halfway to the nurse's office that Kurt was so unwell he was having trouble walking.

And so I said the most charming, appropriate thing I possibly could have.

"You know you can ride me if you want."

I mentally slapped myself in the face. This is why I've never been able to ask Kurt out – I am far too, for fear of sounding like my grandma or Rachel, "smitten", and I turn into a complete idiot whenever he's around.

He seemed to be too delirious to notice and climbed gingerly onto my lap, wrapping his arms around my neck and sighing a little. I tried as hard as I could to be the 'good friend' rather than the 'guy who has had a crush on you since last year and struggles to be in the same room as you without swooning', but it was too much to pretend that I didn't enjoy this, even just a little.

We arrived at the nurse's office and the nurse called Kurt's dad, saying that he had a fever and needed a few days in bed. I waited with Kurt as he lay in the small bed, and listened to him complain about all the things he was going to miss for being sick. He'd planned to teach Sam how to die his hair properly, have a Friends marathon with Mercedes and Tina, take Finn shopping for some clothes that didn't make him look like a lumberjack, and other equally adorable and endearing things. One day I wanted to be part of his plans but… well he didn't see me that way.

I looked up from my hands and found Kurt's gaze on me. "You're a good friend, Artie," he slurred, a slightly dreamy smile on his face. "I don't know why we don't hang out more."

_Because every time I'm near you I want to either throw up or jump your bones or propose to you._

"Yeah, neither do I," I smiled.

Kurt was silent for few moments, still watching me with that little dreamy look he had. Then he said, "You're really pretty when you smile, Artie."

I didn't know how to react to this. "Um, thank you?"

"You don't smile very much though," he observed, looking thoughtful for a while. "It makes me sad," he concluded.

I was touched, for a moment. Kurt Hummel noticed me. Kurt Hummel cared about me. My happiness directly affected the happiness of Kurt fucking Hummel. But as Kurt fucking Hummel began to converse with the loudly ticking clock on the wall, ("Does it ever get boring being a clock? All you do is go round and round…") I started to doubt the legitimacy of anything he was saying. It was all just the fever talking.

After a good laugh at a funny joke the clock must've told, Kurt winced in pain.

"Artie," he moaned, "It hurts."

"What hurts?"

Kurt responded with another groan and reached out for my hand. I took it, and held it tightly. His hands were so soft and just seemed to _fit_ in mine in a way that simultaneously made me smile and broke my heart.

Kurt sighed. "I like your hands."

"I like your hands, too," I replied, grinning from ear to ear.

Kurt rolled over onto his side, facing me. "See!" he jeered. "You're so pretty. You should smile more often."

He reached out to brush some hair off my forehead. I tried not to die.

"Sorry, Kurt," I muttered sheepishly, "I just don't have much to smile about."

Kurt smiled and played with my fingers momentarily. I sort of didn't want this moment to end ever.

Suddenly, he asked, "would you have something to smile about if we went on a date?"

"Say what?" I gaped at him, blinking widely.

He just chuckled, let go of my hand and went back to laughing at the clock.

Which gave me some time to have an internal freak-out.

WELL, SHIT.

On the one hand, Kurt asked me out. On the other, Kurt was so out of it he was singing to his pillow. I mean, he was so out of it he'd probably ask a girl out, I told myself, trying desperately to not get my hopes up. But no matter how hard I tried, they sky-rocketed and before I knew it I was grinning like a fool and getting all giggly and dancey. When Kurt nodded off to sleep I was still there, still celebrating despite knowing full well that the higher my hopes flew (and they were like… way past the stratosphere at this stage) the harder they'd come crashing down. I was getting more elated and defeated all at once and I thought I might damn well explode from all these feelings.

I didn't know what to do at all, and when Burt came around to pick him up I was still freaking out.

"You're Kurt's friend from glee club," Burt said, stretching out a hand. "Artie, isn't it?"

I made some gagging noises in reply.

"You feeling ok, kid?"

_No. I'm hopelessly in love with your son and the only time he has feelings for me is when he's high._

"Yeah, fine."

He raised an eyebrow in a way that reminded me very much of Kurt. "Well we'd better be going." Burt woke Kurt up and started gathering his things for him to leave. "Thanks for taking care of him."

Kurt was already out the door and Burt followed him.

Kurt's geometry books were sitting by my feet and I had one of those it's-now-or-never moments. Ripping out a page from the back of my own notebook, I scribbled:

_Kurt,_

_I was with you when you were sick and… well… you sort of asked me out. But you were singing to your pillow so I wasn't sure if you were serious. If you were, the Sound of Music's on at the community theatre next month and I'd be honoured to go with you. If not, this message will self-destruct in 4 seconds._

_Love Artie_

"Wait!" I called after them. "I think Kurt forgot something."

I shoved the note into the front of his book rolled out to meet Burt.

"Thanks again," Burt waved and Kurt waved happily from his side.

I watched them go with a lump in my throat - suddenly regretting that note and everything it said and oh god Kurt was never going to talk to me again I'm such a gross creeper he probably won't even let me near him WHY AM I SUCH AN IDIOT. And it was all because of that stupid fucking sexy coughing.

Kurt came back to school around eight days and seventeen hours later - not that I was counting. I'd been anticipating his return, rehearsing exactly what I'd say to him over in my head at every possible opportunity.

But the second I saw him strut through the front doors with all dat swag that I loved so much, I was overcome with terror and rolled away in the opposite direction as fast as possible.

I managed to avoid him all day and as I was at my locker ready to go home when something hit me in the back of the head.

I turned around to see Kurt holding up his geometry notebook. He didn't look pleased.

"Artie, what is this?"

All of my hopes and delusions came crashing down around me.

He had the note.

He had the note and he'd read the note and he was mad at me Heavenly Tupac save me now please.

"I'm so sorry Kurt," I began to babble, too embarrassed to meet his eyes. "I'm so sorry I should have known I'd upset you if you don't want to be friends any more that's OK I just really like you and I wanted to be sure but I should have known I mean someone like you would never like someone like me and I'm just so sorry."

There was a brief silence.

"Are you done?" Kurt asked and I heard a flicker of amusement in his voice. I looked up at him and saw a smug smirk plastered across his face.

"I... I guess?" I answered, the hopes that had plummeted gingerly lifting themselves up around me.

"Good," he smirked still. "Because it took me an 103 degree fever to ask you out the first time and I don't want you babbling over my second attempt."

I didn't dare believe what I was hearing.

Kurt giggled at my stunned silence.

"The Sound of Music's a little far off for my liking," he trailed his hand through my hair as he spoke. "So, Breadstix? Tomorrow night?"

"Sounds good." I tried to sound casual, but my high-pitched excitedly nervous laugh gave me away.

Kurt beamed at me, put a hand on my shoulder and leaned in to kiss me on the cheek.

"I'll see you then," he said, walking away.

I made sure his back was turned then launched into the largest and most elaborate victory dance I've ever done. I danced through all the classrooms and the cafeteria and down a bunch of corridors and ended up in the auditorium where the scaffolding was still set up.

I looked it up and down scornfully.

"Who's jealous of who now?" I taunted.

The scaffolding didn't reply.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."


End file.
